


Coin Toss Girl

by Mutiny (orphan_account)



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bandom Big Bang 2013, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluid Sexuality, Genderswap, Musicians, Mutual Pining, Punk Rock, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:11:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Mutiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frankie thinks she's got it together, she's fronting a band, playing shows, finally living away from her mom, working a shitty job and attending college. Not to mention the slightly okay girls she brings home. Slightly okay girls who never seem to actually call her... and yeah, maybe her life isn't as together as she thought it was, especially after meeting some random dude at a party who turned out to be her flatmates brother and not a complete jerk. Takeout is consumed, arguments are had, pining is contagious and sexualities questioned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coin Toss Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bandom Big Bang '13. Title from The Bouncing Souls. Check out the absolutely fantastic mix by morganya [here](http://8tracks.com/morganya/here-as-i-am) or download [here.](https://app.box.com/s/tmkp3egssqpbj4sz6vmd)

The beer bottle Frankie holds in her hand is slick and slippery, the label feels tacky and a bit weird but she downs it regardless. It's her seventh for the night and they are only three songs into their set in some guys flat. She's pleasantly buzzed and quickly strums out a few random chords that sound something like a Misfit's song before stepping up to the microphone.

“'Sup dudes and lady dudes. We've got about two more original songs before we rip out some 'Maiden and Black Flag, so, yeah.”

Not many people bother to turn around or really listen to her slurring into the microphone but it's okay. The rest of the songs go surprisingly well and as the rest of the band breaks down the drum kit, the guy whose party it is – Scott or something, slips a $50 and two rolled joints into her hand as thanks. It's the best paid gig they have ever done and she can't help but tug him into a quick, sweaty hug. The turn out to see them play hadn't been too bad either. At least some people came inside to watch them, drinks in hand and scattered applauses and the usual yells of “Yeah! Take it off!” after each song. They were the usual sort of crowd, guys decked out in band tshirts and baggy dickies and girls in spaghetti strap tops that left little to the imagination. 

Frankie watches over Scott's shoulder as the crowd dissipates and the stereo system takes over. She knows she should be helping the rest of her band move the rest of the gear back into the van but her attention is momentarily caught, and not for the first time that night. Sitting on one of the couches is a rather out of place looking guy. His dark hair curls around his face, framing his pale skin and up-turned nose and casting shadows across his fine features. At first glance he had looked almost like a girl, but by the end of the first song of the night, she'd noticed that she was rather a _he_. Well _damn_. The alcohol singing in her veins and the adrenaline that comes from pouring her soul into calloused fingertips and a spit soaked microphone makes her brave. She thanks Scott again and makes her way over to the couch, snagging a beer on the way and cracking the top of with her teeth. 

“Hey,” turns out to be her winning icebreaker and she straddles her guitar in her lap. “This seat taken?” 

“Uh, hey,” the guy shyly replies. “Good show. I mean, great show, you were fucking, like a force of nature up there... and uh, no, it's not.”

Frankie can't help but grin at him, leaning towards him to hear him that little bit better. “Thanks man! Glad you liked it! So you friends with Scott? Or something?”

The shy guy, dressed in a baggy hoodie half unzipped to show a tshirt with some print on it, Planet of the Apes or something, shakes his head a little and yells something about his brother inviting him.

She nods a little despite not actually catching most of the conversation. She is just about to ask him if she has met him before, as he seems kind of familiar when Shaun coming and dragging her off for tequila shots interrupts her. She turns back to shy guy to ask if he wants to join but he has already engaged in conversation with some girl in a retro floral dress and fishnet stockings. Frankie blinks a few times and gets up, tucking her guitar back into its case and joining Shaun at the kitchen bench. 

The night actually goes quickly, Frankie gets hammered and ends up making out with the girl in the floral dress and fishnets. She tries to ignore the way her eyes keep wanting to glance around the room, the way she feels stupidly nervous whenever she catches sight of the random guy. It's strange for something like that to hold her interest so intently, so she does the only thing she knows for sure that will distract her – grinding against some girl in the hallway of someone else's house. It's messy and a little rushed and they end up taking a cab back to the flat that she shares with Mikey Way. Alice, as it turns out, is not at all shy about tugging them both into bed and removing their clothes. Frankie is a little ashamed to admit that she had pretty much passed out the minute her back hit the mattress but she makes up for it the only way she can, with getting them both off with fuzzy hangover tongues and lazy fingers in the morning. It's a fucking _blessing_ that Frankie actually has the weekend off from work for once and spends a great deal of time getting to know Alice and her milky pale curves. She pointedly ignores the dolphin and butterfly tattoos and ends up getting into a discussion about the art school Alice attends in New York over coffee and half burnt toast. Apparently art school students are just as pretentious and up themselves as the kids who go to Rutgers. It really shouldn't surprise her really, it was _New York_ and _art school_. At some point Alice rambles about some guy who is in her classes, who everything thinks is gay and often sketches little vampires that Frankie would apparently “just love.” She doesn't speak his name and to be honest Frankie isn't really listening even when she states, “You know, the guy you were sitting next to?” 

Saturday afternoon rolls around with headache inducing sunlight and not enough coffee in the pot. “Thanks, Frankie,” Alice tells her, stuffing her ripped fishnet stockings into her handbag as she makes her way to the front door a few hours later. “Call me if you ever wanna hook up again, 'kay?”

Frankie nods and waves before shutting the door with a slight groan. 

“So... Last night was a good one, huh?” 

Frankie jumps a little in surprise before rolling her eyes and turns to face Mikey, who helps himself to her coffee. “Yeah, it was, actually. You should've come.” She quickly snatches her coffee mug back with narrowed eyes. “And stop stealing my coffee. We have an agreement, remember?”

“ _Lazy ass flatmates do not help themselves to the stereo or the open the blinds before the afternoon after a party_ , I _know_ , okay?” Mikey parrots back before making his own. “Did you see my brother there by any chance?”

Frankie tries to remember if anyone came up and introduced themselves as Mikey's brother and draws a painful blank. 

She regrets later on as she swallows down painkillers and collapses back into bed, that she hadn't asked the random guys name. She even contemplates txting Alice and asking her but it seems like too much effort with a hangover and the very strong desire to heave up the dry toast and coffee. 

~

The weekend goes past way too quickly for Frankie's liking and before she knows it, her alarm is screaming at her to get up so she can actually get to class. She contemplates pressing snooze for the third time this morning, but she can already hear Mikey awake and watching some form of cartoons on TV. With a little huffed sigh, she throws back her warm covers and pads her way out and into the lounge, plonking down on the couch.

“What we watch'n?” she asks, stealing Mikey's bowl of cereal and shoving a quick spoonful into her mouth before handing it back. By the taste of it, it is the last dregs of fruit loops or something and is that weirdly horrible mix of powdered, gritty sugar crumbs and milk. It's an effort to swallow. 

“Transformers, you got class?” Mikey replies, not tearing his eyes away from Megatron. 

“Yeah, but it requires putting on a shirt and pants and I really can't be fucked.”

Mikey nods like he gets it – which he does, a few months of living with Frankie stumbling out with eyeliner smeared like Alice Cooper and no shirt on, made sure of that. They watch the show for a bit before Frankie feels gross enough to finally haul her ass into the shower. 

~

The flatting arrangement with Mikey was one mostly of convenience. He really couldn't be trusted by himself after trying to take a space heater into the bathroom with him, and Frankie was, to put it correctly “broke as fuck.” They had originally been friends with a similar crowd of people despite going to different schools and in spite of everything; Mikey was actually an all right dude. He registered more like a brother to Frankie – maybe it was something about his geeky glasses and love of Anthrax. He had no problem with her stumbling home at early hours of the morning after a party, or the loud giggles which would come from her room if she brought a girl home with her. He hadn't even batted an eyelid when she had straight up told him the first time they'd met that she was gay, and even better yet, had never made any move on her or made dirty comments about potential threesomes like most dickbags Frankie had the misfortune of running into it. Their friendship and living arrangements was... nice, comfortable, dependable. In the many months that she had known Mikey, Frankie had yet to meet his “weird artist” brother, but she figured, it was only a matter of time.

~

Frankie wasn't wrong. 

She arrives home with ice cream and Vanessa – a girl she'd picked up last weekend after a Bouncing Souls gig, only to tumble into the lounge and is forced to blink a few times. 

“Mikey!” she calls out. “There's a boy in the house! Neither of us date guys, what is this shit?”

The guy is sitting on the couch, half slouched into it with his mouth hanging open a little, hand halfway raised to his mouth with popcorn in it. Frankie's breathing momentarily catches a little as she blinks back at him. His dark, greasy hair hangs a little in his pale face and he looks like he's totally caught in headlights or something like a deer or maybe a gazelle. Frankie tries to ignore the way her heart has sped up as she realizes that this guy might be the same one as the one she had a weird interest in a few weeks ago at the party (her memory is pretty shitty, even on a good day so it's about a 60/40 chance). She eventually snaps out of it when Vanessa lets go of her hand and shifts her weight a little as if suddenly nervous. Frankie glares a little at the guy, almost challenging to say something. The thing is that she has dealt with guys like this before – guys who think it's their god given right to watch girls kiss, to wolf whistle, to stare at her tits like they belong to them or some shit. Sure, he looks like kind of a nerd, but experience has taught her that sometimes they are the worst after a couple of drinks. Frankie tugs off her leather jacket, dumping it down before grabbing Vanessa's hand and not waiting for an answer from Mikey as to who this guy actually is, dragging them both into her room and loudly closing the door. 

It's not like she's actively listening anything, but when the movie starts up again (her copy of Day of the Dead of all things) she hears the random guy mutter something along the lines of “So that's Frankie? Woah...” Unsure what that even _means_ she busies herself instead with the way Vanessa has crawled onto her bed, her dress hitching up to show off smooth thighs that are begging for her fingertips and lips. 

~

Things with Vanessa doesn't work out, and after a week Frankie is sitting on the couch nursing her fourth beer of the night and deleting all the text messages from her. It sucks. Getting dumped always does. The thing is, she's not a slut. She doesn't just 'hook up' like everyone supposes she does. Unlike some of her friends, she makes an effort to actually date people. 

“I don't just fuck,” she had slurred once, or three times over a few beers. That's the thing, she _likes_ relationships. Likes the security and getting to know a person. Sure, the chase is fun but it hasn't got anything on waking up to someone and knowing they will be there the next night.

“Maybe that's where I'm going wrong...” Frankie mutters to herself, throwing her piece-of-shit cell phone onto the coffee table. 

“Huh?” Mikey asks, zoning his attention in for a second. He is leaning against the couch, Nintendo controller on hand, his eyes trained on the screen in front of him. 

“Actually dating girls, most of them only wanna hook up, rebel against their stupid limp dick boyfriends or whatever. Maybe I should just be a douchebag and just fuck 'em.” 

Mikey makes a non-committal noise, quickly pushing his glasses up his nose. 

“'S not like I don't already have a reputation for just fucking anyway.”

“Totally, such a whore.”

Frankie smacks him a little with her foot. “Eat dick, Way. You're just jealous that you don't have a sweet mohawk.”

“I really really am,” Mikey dead pans before adding “I wasn't the one who just got dumped for the second time this month though.”

Frankie opens her mouth to come back with a retort but finds her throat closed off as her voice chokes. “Yeah, yeah, I guess so...” she eventually states, biting back tears and quickly making a move for the dairy-free chocolate ice cream. 

“Thing's will get better, dude.” Mikey reassures her when she eventually sits back down, teaspoon in mouth. All she can do is nod and hope so. 

~

Life moves on in a series of boring lectures, almost late assignments, band practice, cheap beer and shitty work shifts. Frankie is tired and a little over things and is more than glad to collapse into bed at night with a random Harry Potter book. She knows she doesn't have time to really _feel_ lonely but she does. It aches and twists inside of her, making her cold, empty sheets seem that much colder. She misses curling up to someone, feeling their arm draped across her waist, their breath in her hair. Even stupid things like receiving totally lame text messages and getting into arguments about which fast food coffee is the worst (Frankie's money is always on drive through McDonald’s filter. That shit is actually undrinkable.) 

Mikey, apparently, has his breaking point after he comes home to find her on the couch, swathed in a duvet, watching infomercials about vacuum cleaners. “Get your shit, we're going out,” he states, throwing a hoodie at her. 

“But I have to do this assignment and then head over to my mom's-”

“Stop whining, you're not doing the assignment right now, you're not working and I'm pretty sure your mom will forgive you.”

Mikey does have a semi-valid point, and after a few threats and a handful of convincing arguments, Frankie is heading out the door with him dressed in clothes that he had to pick out for her. 

“That one stinks.” “That's got food one it.” “Seriously? Dude, no.” “That one is okay.” “Yes, go with that one.” “No, the other is better and you can see your tatts.” “I said that one was fine.”

Glancing one last time at her reflection, she's kind of impressed by Mikey's skills. Dark jeans with the knees only slightly ripped, Misfit's tshirt and a denim jacket with a couple of pins on it. She runs a hand through her half grown out mohawk and makes a mental note and redye the sides red, or bleach them out again. Despite what some people think or may say behind her back, she does actually care a little about what she looks like – she is a girl after all, and whilst huge quantities of makeup aren't really her thing, or mountains of shoes, she gets her hairdresser friend around at least ever month or so for cut, colour and a girls trip to the waxing place. Frankie had learnt her lesson years ago about shaving the tender areas. Legs are fine, sure. But anything above her mid thighs meant chronic shaving rash and the itchiest stubble in history.

A couple of beers into the afternoon, Frankie is no longer worried about the assignments or the fact that she's sitting with a random group of strangers. Her attention is caught on a girl sitting by herself at a table, pencil in hand and a coffee beside her. She's pretty – her dark hair hanging loosely around her pale face with a black cardigan hiding her arms. She looks oddly familiar but Frankie is unable to place her. She's pretty sure she hasn't met her; she is certainly cute enough that she'd remember... Frankie is pulled out of her daydream of having the balls to go and see if cute artist girl wants another coffee by Mikey jabbing her with his bony elbow into her. 

“Ow! The fuck?”

“Go talk to her, it'll be good for you to, you know, get back out there.”

“What if she rejects me?” Frankie whispers loudly back. It's a stupid irrational fear, one only heightened by the alcohol singing through her veins and mixing with the potato chips in her stomach. 

Mikey rolls his brown hazel eyes. “Then she's an idiot.”

Frankie sighs. She knows there is a strong possibility that Mikey is right (he often is, the shit) and that she should just go over there instead of swooning and making epic heart eyes that go unnoticed. The girl keeps drawing. “What do I say? You know I'm lame as fuck,” Frankie whispers instead of getting up. She pointedly ignores the way Mikey's friends raise a few eyebrows at their close interaction. 

“Dude, I shouldn't need to give you advice on how to pick up chicks, especially ones that look like my brother. Just tell her that her scribbles are good and ask if she wants more coffee and try not to come on too strongly, I know you're kinda desperate and all girl-depressed at the moment from lack of kisses of whatever but sticking a hand on her thigh doesn't work at this time of day...”

Frankie doesn't hear most of that speech as her gaze rakes up the girl black denim clad legs and across her delicate jaw. She gives Mikey a quick nod before sliding out of her seat and making her way over to the girl. 

An hour later, Frankie leaves with a new number saved on her phone and graphite smudged on her fingertips. 

~

Frankie is not even drunk, well, maybe a little. It's Friday night and she has just gotten off stage with her band. Her guitar and leads are already packed away and the beer and cigarette combination in her hands in like a gift from god himself. The set had gone pretty okay aside from the fact she could barely hear herself due to some inexperienced brat behind the P.A. She's feeling a little lonely if she is perfectly honest with herself. Things with Katie hadn't worked out (she's secretly glad cause man, that girl had some serious baggage) so she's officially back to being single. She is even beginning to get kind of used to it. 

“Frankie! Hey!” 

She is snapped out of her internal pity parade by Mikey yelling at her, waving slightly. It's hard to ignore the smile that appears on her face at the sight of him. Without fail he'd turned up to most of her shows, bringing along at least three paying people and shouting her a beer. Tonight is no different but as she approaches she is struck by this really weird sense of deja vu. There is a guy standing slight awkwardly next to Mikey who she kind of recognizes. He's about half a head shorter and has a kind of ridiculous upturned nose, dark messy hair and dark eyes. She blinks at him a few times trying to think where the hell she knew him. The guy shifts his weight a little, eyes flicking over her too. 

_Great,_ Frankie thinks, closing the distance. _Another asshole whose eyeing me up and making cracks about my tits bouncing or something._ She narrows her eyes a little and gives Mikey a little pseudo grin and nod. She appreciates him coming out and doesn't really blame him for the fact that he sometimes brings assholes with him. 

“Good show!” Mikey yells as soon as she is close enough. It's pretty hot in the bar and his round-rimmed glasses keep slipping down his narrow nose. 

“Thanks man! 'preciate you coming out for it!”

“There wasn't anything good on TV and Gee wanted to see you perform again.”

Frankie rolls her eyes and is about to make some rude crack about him when she is interrupted by Mikey leaning closer and yelling in her ear again. “You do remember Gee, right? My brother?”

Oh. It suddenly all makes sense. 

Mikey's brother lifts his hand holding his beer and gives a little wave, mouthing “Hey” before taking a sip. Under the dull lights of the bar he looks kind of familiar and she tries to make sense of where she had seen him before in her slightly drunk brain. She wants to ask him if he was the one at Scott's party a while ago and the same guy who'd stayed over that one time watching horror movies with Mikey, but it's too loud and that would mean having to get closer to yell in his ear. He didn't really seem like an asshole the previous times she'd met him and tries to tell her inner angry punk girl to calm the fuck down. Mikey had only spoken positively about his brother, aside from the usual sibling “asshole stole my -insert comic, movie, game, shirt here-” speeches. 

Frankie doesn't mean to stare at him, she really doesn't, but her eyes can't help but linger on him and the way the crowd pushes against him. He looks kinda uncomfortable, his dark eyes flitting around the room as he shifts his weight. Frankie knows the feeling, just as she equally knows that more beer is the answer to it. Without really thinking about it, she empties her bottle before being shoved closer to the brothers. 

“You're really good,” Gee yells in her ear after a little while of Mikey busying himself with the pale glow of his cellphone. “Lot of potential.” 

Frankie rolls her eyes and snorts a laugh. “I'm gay but thanks man.” For some reason his comment really annoys her, it's not that she hasn't heard it a hundred times before but she didn't expect it from Mikey's brother Gee. Gee, she's pretty sure it's short for something but the tequila shots she'd had after she'd finished coiling and stashing her leads has short-circuited her brain. She makes a mental note to ask Mikey when she drags him out for a cigarette. 

“What? I meant your band. Sorry, I didn't mean...” Mikey's brother tries to clarify, his voice sounding a little slurred as if he was talking out of one side of his mouth. Frankie just shakes her head a little, ignoring him and leads them outside where she steals Mikey's lighter. 

“It's fine,” she replies, waving her hand with the newly lit cigarette between her fingers. “You'd be surprised at the number of narrowed minded idiots we get at shows like this. Apparently I'll never be as good cause I'm a chick.” Frankie shakes her head quickly before continuing “Not that I'm out to match or best anyone. I just wanna kick a few teeth in and have fun.”

From then on the conversation quickly turns into the usual bitching about the music scene and how it has really been just a boys club. After a few minutes of heated conversation Mikey rolls his eyes.

“Oh don't you start,” Frankie quickly tells him before smacking his arm lightly. “We've had this conversation at least ten times between us, just cause you've heard it all before doesn't mean that your brother has.” She turns back to Gerard, stating that they should have a movie night sometime before asking what he actually did for work. She vaguely remembers Mikey mentioning that he did comics or something.

“Uh, yeah,” Gee replies, picking at the label on his beer as if suddenly self-conscious now that the conversation had turned back to him. “They're not very good though. Mostly just like... Vampires and mad people running around.”

“Vampires will , _always_ hurt you, sneaky bastards.” Frankie can't help but grin a little at him. She puts down the slightly weird feeling in her gut down to bad veggie tacos the night before last and doesn't notice that Mikey has slipped away from them. 

It's not long before the next band starts sound check and they head inside. Frankie slips the bartender another few bills and comes back with two bottle of beer, handing one to the eldest Way brother. 

“This next band is pretty good!” She shouts, having to stand on tiptoes to yell in his ear. She doesn't notice the way he shivers slightly and leans a little closer to her. When the band finally starts up Frankie can't help but get swallowed into the pit, only to re-emerge with her shirt torn up a bit and a cut across her cheek from god knows what. The adrenaline is running hot through her, pumping a rhythm similar to the bass line and she knows she is grinning madly as she drags Gerard out for a smoke when she eventually finds him again. She puts it down to the alcohol, the strange need to be next to him. It's only made worse when Gerard laughs a little at her when he brushes the blood off her face and hands over his lighter.

“You look like you had fun.”

“Uh, thanks? Yeah, the pit was kinda crazy.” At this moment Frankie is glad they're outside in the heavy night so he can't see the heat flooding her cheeks. 

They end up sharing a cab back to Frankie's flat. Mikey had disappeared somewhere and despite Gerard's attempt to text him (which involved the both of them blinking down at the harshly lit greenish yellow screen, too drunk to really work out what the hell either of them was typing) hadn't shown up by the time they finished Frankie's almost full cigarette box. Gerard, had predictably face planted into the couch as soon as they had arrived back, and Frankie, being Frankie had simply laughed a little, tossed a blanket over him before grabbing a pen and drawing whiskers and a penis on his cheek for good measure. 

Despite her best attempts, Frankie is unable to sleep that night. Still too drunk to read, and not drunk enough to pass out she resorts to getting herself off and pretending that she didn't think about the weird boy in the room next door whilst doing so. When Frankie eventually emerges from her slumber (hung-over, of course, with her mouth tasting like a desert of death) she is confronted with a Gerard who is strangely awake and watching TV, totally unaware of the drawings on his face. His hair is mess and there are pillow marks etched into his pale face. It is a pretty amusing sight and Frankie can't help but snigger as she makes her way into the kitchen. Turns out that Gerard had put a new pot of coffee on and has a bottle of painkillers standing on the coffee table. 

“Wow, someone's prepared.” Frankie mumbles, collapsing onto the couch and reaching for the remote.

“Hey!” Gerard protests. “Cartoons are on and unless you're going for the volume I'm gonna have to stop you.”

“Of course cartoons, and don't worry, I plan on keeping the volume pretty low.” Frankie rolls her eyes, almost immediately regretting so as the hangover pounds harder. Even the TV is too bright for her eyes this early in the day. She only just catches Gerard's hum in reply, his soft almost raw voice swallowed up by the sounds of Starscream yelling on screen. She contemplates telling him about the drawings on his face but decides against it. Mikey will probably do it when he emerges.

Almost true to form, Mikey appears a few minutes later, barely glancing at them. “You have a dick on your face,” he tells his brother in a bored tone which suggests that Gerard waking up with dick on his face was a common occurrence. 

“Wha? A dick... you didn't...”

Frankie can barely keep the giggles in which easily reveals her as remarkable artist and prankster that she is. 

Gerard simply groans loudly, rubbing at his face before looking at his slightly ink smudged hand. “Ughhh, fuck you.” He settles back against the pillows, making no effort to move and wash it off. 

“Anytime, babe.” Frankie replies, blowing him a kiss before quickly turning her attention back to the TV before either of the Way brothers can spot the quickly spreading blush on her cheeks. It was just a random throw away sentence, one that she has used may times, but it's hard denying the twisted feeling in her stomach. She is almost hyper aware of Gerard's presence and it makes no sense. It's _Gerard_ , Mikey's _brother_. Shit shouldn't feel as awkward as it does. Sure, he's kinda pretty in a girl-ish way with his pale skin and upturned nose and stupidly good eyelashes that even Frankie admits she is jealous of in the light of day. But the weird feeling persists and eventually she slumps back to her bedroom and falls back into bed. It occurs to her as she is kicking the blankets off after tugging them up almost to her chin, that this is the third time she had actually seen and met Gerard. She should be well over this, not swooning like a teenager. Frankie know that no matter she cannot breathe a word of this to Mikey and vows to update her online dating profile when she feels more alive. 

Three weeks later and Frankie finds herself tucked into the couch, ice cream in hand, letting the TV entertain itself. She had managed to score a few dates, nothing really interesting though (she can't help but think wistfully about those who turned her down.) Most of them turned out to be art students with stupid black hair and stupid pale skin and stupid conversation and- 

“Stop wallowing. Shaun just texted you and said to get your ass to some party. Said he's gonna pick you up in twenty minutes so stop sniffing.” Mikey's bored voice calls out, obviously going through her phone. For a few seconds Frankie tries to convince herself that staying at home with reruns of _Buffy_ seems like the lesser of two evils.

“I'm not sniffing,” she replies, slowly unfolding her limbs and standing shakily. “And I'm not wallowing.” Frankie doesn't even to _look_ at Mikey's face to know his expression. With a sigh she wanders over, grabs her phone and heads to the laundry hamper to dig out something wearable. 

The party is not all that busy when she finally arrives so her and Shaun take up residence outside, sharing a pack of disgusting menthols that was found lurking in Shaun's glove box. They talk about the usual shit, lamenting the rise in beer prices and that one day Frankie's band might actually get an out of state gig. It's not the usual crowd they hang around with and when she returns from the kitchen to steal another bag of crisps, she gets caught up in a conversation that has her immediately pissed off. The alcohol makes her brave and before she even really registers what she is doing, she is kissing a very stunned looking Gerard Way firmly on the mouth. It should have stopped there but her hands go around him and it turns into a weirdly hot make out session that makes her head spin. In the back of her mind she knows she shouldn't be doing this, which it goes against everything. But drunk assholes will always be, well, drunk assholes and there is only so many stupid jokes she can put up with about her being queer and that she'd never kiss a guy. It shouldn't matter who she kisses. Eventually though she pulls away, lips still parted and swollen. Gerard looks... scared. Almost as if he's never been kissed before. Which is kinda weird and totally not possible. Even more weird is how much Frankie actually enjoyed the kiss, how good it felt to have his arms around her, so she does the one thing she knows will clearly express herself and shoves him hard. 

Frankie promptly returns to the kitchen to hide her embarrassment and emotions in another drink and spends the next hour or so trying to stay in conversations with people she hardly knows. In the end she gives up and goes and looks for Gerard. Her stomachs a weird mess of knots every time she rounds a corner and doesn't find him. Shaun's car is gone also which leaves Frankie in a bit of tricky situation. She isn't in the mood for just hanging around and avoiding assholes and really drunk sixteen year olds. 

“Hey, I thought you'd left.”

Gerard's almost reserved voice suddenly interrupts her, making her spin around in surprise. “Hey!” Frankie quickly replies, tugging him off and then in for a hug before she knows what she is doing. He feels soft and warm but firm against her. Either that or she's had more beer than she though. Gerard stiffens slightly in the quick embrace and mumbles out that he was going to head home and if Frankie had any plans. 

“Escorting you home,” Frankie quickly replies, half tripping over the living room rug. “This party blows. We should grab some diet coke, Doritos, crash out and watch some zombie movies.”

Gerard seems frozen for a moment before stuttering out “Ah, yeah. We can do that. Yeah. Yeah?”

Frankie can't help but grin, steering them out of the house and into the frigid air. “Yeah. Hey, you're not weird about the kiss thing, right? Like it wasn't a big deal so you don't need to tell Mikey about it.”

“Not weird, no. Wait what? I... Okay... No, wait, I'm really bad at hiding things from Mikey. Did you... Why did you do it?”

“Cause those assholes wouldn't have left me alone otherwise,” She replies, groaning a little and tipping her head back. “Mikey's gonna bitch me out with his eyebrows. I just know it.”

“Oh. Um. Okay... I guess that makes sense... Sorry, he always knows when I'm lying though.”

Frankie ignores how awkward he sounds and slips her arm into his as a link and squeezes slightly. “You're a very convincing actor by the way. Thanks for that. Probably was bad form to throw myself at you though. I'll try not to do it again.”

“I...” Gerard starts before pausing and adding a quick “never mind. It's okay.” He gives a little self-deprecating laugh. “I wasn't exactly complaining.”

“Fuck no you wouldn't. I'm a great kisser. Sorry if that stopped you from scoring tonight.. Not that there was anyone worthwhile actually there.”

Gerard simply shakes his head and mumbles in response. 

Frankie can't help but nudge him. “You're acting weird. Look, I don't have to stay tonight. I can just go round to Jamia's.”

“No!” Gerard hurriedly replies before more slowly continuing with “I mean... No, I'm sorry. It's not weird. I mean, I'm pretty weird as a general rule, but I guess you knew that already... I'm gonna stop talking now”

All Frankie can do is laugh harder, following Gerard up to his crowded and slightly shitty apartment. She's still a little too drunk to do anything more than inspect his bookshelf before collapsing against him to watch a movie. She doesn't intend on snuggling closer every time the slighter taller guy tries to move, really. He's just comfortable and before she really knows it, she is passed out and drooling on his shoulder. 

~

“Don't you have a date with Gerard tonight?” Mikey questions two weeks later, stepping in from the kitchen. His too skinny jeans sagging a little on his narrow frame.

"What? No! It's not a date! We're just having pizza and...” Frankie trails off as she tugs another tshirt over her current one red one. “Fuck you, it's not a date!” It's not, it's totally not, and when Gerard opens the door and comes in, she flips the younger Way brother off. She doesn't even bother to do much more to her clothes other than shove a pair of battered skate shoes on. After all, it _wasn't_ a _date_. She manages to make it all through the slightly awkward drive and a second beer before she puts her fork down, frowning a little. 

“What is this?” she asks.

“Uh, I was under the impression it was veggie pizza or something, unless they fucked up in the kitchen. Fuck, is there meat in there?” Gerard switches from amused to genuinely concerned, quickly placing his own cutlery down. 

“No! I mean _this_!”

“...The restaurant?”

Frankie sighs, frustrated at Gerard _not_ getting this. “Have we been dating for the past two weeks? Is this a _date_ date? How the did actually happen?”

Gerard blinks, brushing a couple of strands of hair from his face. “What did you think this was?”

“Spinach?” Frankie jokes awkwardly, looking down at her half eaten slice of pizza, which for the record, is fucking delicious before finally getting to the point of it... well, sort of. “You're Mikey's brother!”

“Yes, well done, Sherlock.”

“So you actually want to _date_ me? You do realize I'm gay, right?” It seemed like an obvious thing to state. 

“Yes, I know, but fuck conforming to homonomitive boundaries.” Gerard doesn't even seem to blink as he states that, leaving Frankie completely blindsided.

“You're a dick,” is all she can think to counter before reaching over and stealing a piece of some sort of vegetable off his plate.

The subject doesn't come up again for the rest of the night, making Frankie's stomach twist occasionally. It's not the food, or the fact that she has been consuming too many dairy products in the last couple of weeks but rather the way Gerard looks at her. It's odd, really fucking odd. She's a bit confused whether or not it actually means that they are dating and can't help but blanch a little at the idea that she might for once have a _boyfriend_. 

Regardless she ends up staying the night again and settles far too easily into Gerard's bed. She had previously learnt that his couch was fucking awful for sleeping and his apartment tended to reach arctic temperatures during the night, so bed it was. One of the problems with sharing a bed with Gerard, or with anyone in general is that she gets handsy, usually about 4am and her hands start to ghost over her bedmates hips and ribs, seeking out the warmth. Gerard makes a few grumbled noises, half waking at the sensation but obviously not enough for him to realize that it isn't a dream so lets his own hands roam, sliding easily up her back. Frankie sleepily hunts for his lips, kissing him lightly and slips her hand into his boxers.  
“Mmm Gee...” She breathes, “You should let me fuck you...”

Gerard hums an agreement and rubs against her a bit, kissing back, still not awake enough to know it’s not a dream. His movements are unhurried and gentle but it is enough to send Frankie falling out of bed with a yelp and loud cry of “FUCK!! WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?!”

Gerard wakes suddenly with a cry of his own “FUCK! What? What ha... Why are you...?” He then looks between Frankie sprawled on the floor to his own skewed pj pants and back again. “What happened? I thought you...”

“That you'd just casually feel me up in your sleep?! Not that I'm not flattered by your obvious boner, I am, but _DUDE_.”

“Whoa! Hey! You were the one copping a feel!” Gerard quickly retorts, gesturing a little wildly.

“Uh-huh, really? You sure that's the story you're sticking with?”

As Frankie stands she is fixed by Gerard's hard glare, “Frankie, you had your hand in my pants. Don't you try to land this all on me. Don't get me wrong, you're hot, damn hot, and that's probably the least amount I could say on the topic, but you're into girls. I know some people mistake me for a girl but you're not one of them and I'm not going to push it so don't go blaming me for this!”

Frankie drags in a quick breath, trying to calm her racing heart before rearranging her tank top and tries to climb back into bed, prompting telling Gerard to scooch over.

Gerard however stands his ground, sitting up more fully. “Excuse me?”

“I'm tired, move over, Gee.” 

“Seriously? You'll rip me to shreds if it's my fault but as soon as its yours we just have to forget about it?” Gerard throws his legs over the edge of the bed, making a move to leave. 

Frankie quickly presses her hand to his chest, desperation colouring her voice as she does so. “Gee, wait, please...” Gerard is still glaring at her and meeting his eyes only serves to make her further nervous and hyper-aware. “Okay, here goes... I like you, you've fucked with my head something chronic and I _like_ you. For some crazy reason. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, how it would feel to have you want me.” She wishes almost immediately that she could take the words back the second they leave her lips. It scares how open she just was, how she just poured out what she has been avoiding thinking about let alone telling someone else, especially Gerard. She watches as his throat moves with a quick swallow, as if he is hunting for words too.

“You what?” he finally asks, voice raw with sleep. “I mean... Fuck, Frankie, how could I _not_ want you? Have you _seen_ you? Have you been around you?”

It's not quite the response she expects and it throws her off guard, making her nervously run a hand through her messy mohawk before quickly replying that she is nothing special, really.

Gerard quickly shakes his head and shifts closer to the edge of the bed. “You're amazing. I'm sorry I've been confusing you. And I... I like you too, but if it would be easier if I kept away I think I can try that...”

“No, it's fine,” Frankie replies, rubbing her face. It's far to early in the morning to be doing this. “It's just that I've always liked girls and then you come into my life and suddenly I'm dating girls who look like cheap imitations of you and wondering what the hell I was missing.”

Gerard fidgets, wringing his hands then after a long moment he quickly stands, leaning in real quick and kisses her. He pulls back fast however and looking at the ground, mumbles a soft “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Frankie asks with a laugh, finally taking a seat beside him on the too soft mattress. 

Gerard mumbles again, not looking at her. “Cause I'm awkward as fuck.” 

“Well, duh, now, shift over in bed, I'm fucking freezing standing here.” She doesn't wait for an answer and promptly pushes him over a little so she can climb in. She can half see Gerard nod, still not making eye contact as he lays down, shuffling over to make room. Her patience eventually runs out however and she resorts to prodding his ribs and asking if he is actually going to look at her. Gerard chews his lip in response, flicking his eyes briefly to her before focusing them away again. 

“I make you that uncomfortable huh?” Frankie states with a sinking feeling. “Let's just forget about it. Besides it's ass o'clock in the morning but if you crack a joke about me being moody and on my period I will punch you in the balls.”

“I... You don't make me uncomfortable. Just nervous I guess. Cause I don't wanna screw things up. I don't... I'm sorry.” Gerard finally whispers a few heartbeats later.

“ _You're_ nervous? Really?” She rolls over, hitches a leg over his waist. “But you've been with loads of girls and well, you're actually the second guy I've ever kissed, so if anyone should be nervous it would be me.”

Gerard gulps slightly uncomfortably at leg but then laughs. “Loads of girls? In what world have I been with loads of girls?”

“Thought I'd fluff your ego,” Frankie replies with an easy shrug, unable to help the smile tugging at her lips when Gerard laughs again and finally looks up at her.

“So what are we doing? What is this now?” 

Of course he'd be the one to actually _ask_ , and for a second Frankie genuinely has no idea before copping out and telling him that it can be whatever he wants it to be, but as for the record, she's a big fan of snuggling. Gerard simply smiles openly and honestly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She makes a happy sound in response, quickly cuddling in and sighing contentedly. “You need to shower more often though,” she remarks instead of addressing the question and Gerard is apparently tired enough to let it slide as he replies with a breathy laugh in her ear that she should speak for herself. 

“Fuck you, I shower. I even wash my hair sometimes.”

Gerard laughs lightly. “Sure you do. Now shush, I thought you were tired.”

“Trust me, you've yet to experience a straight off stage sweaty hug. Compared to that I'm fucking roses. And I am tired, but I like talking with you.”

Even in the dark Frankie can make out his eyes widening and the hopeful tone in his voice easily declares his surprise. “You do? DnD and the Invisibles aren't usually winning topics of conversation but that's all I've got. And art, but people just get confused when I start on that.”

“Hey! Grant Morrison is genius! And you can talk art to me anytime you want, I won't promise to understand it all but I'll try.” She quickly presses a kiss to his cheek before commenting how weird it is that he as stubble. Gerard helpfully points out that scruff is all it ever is and returns the kiss. 

“You are such a girl!” Frankie tells him before adding “No, really, it's a good thing. You're kinda perfect.” 

“Uhh Thanks? I guess?”

The squeak Frankie lets out as she is tugged a bit closer is embarrassing and she can't help but let her mouth run, finally spilling everything she had been going through. “But seriously, you have NO idea the sexuality crisis you've been putting me through. I was so sure of who I was and what I wanted until I met you and well...”

“I'd say I'm sorry but I'm kind of not now that we're here.” Frankie feels him grin against her before admitting her bad run of dating experience, which only makes Gerard grin wider. “So girls who look like me huh?”

“Yes. Artist girls who liked comics who had stupid pale skin, black hair and smoked too many cigarettes. Surprisingly hard to take home with me to be honest.”

“You went to great lengths to vicariously sleep with me... I think I'm flattered.”

“Be flattered. I certainly didn't intend to feel you up in your sleep tonight. I was kinda hoping that this crush would just work itself out but that clearly hasn't happened. Also, hugely great lengths. Not as amazing girl versions of you are less than impressed with my punkish ways.”

“I've been impressed by you for a while...” Gerard admits. “But I wasn't aware there were all these girl versions of me running around. I should do something more original.”

“I mean... You're okay, none of the girls were as nerdy as you. You're perfect.” Frankie doesn't really mean to add the last bit but is happy when Gerard surges forward and presses his lips to her own, softly adding “So are you.”

“A giant nerd? 'K thanks.” They end up trading small kisses in the dark with their arms wrapped around each other before Frankie pulls back with a giggle. “Oh god, I totally asked if I could fuck you.”

Gerard laugh, reaching out to smooth the hair off her forehead. “You really did. I'm a bit tired right now though I have to say. Maybe later.”

“You're that adventurous huh? Wow, I had no idea. This has been a real eye opener of a first date.”

“Wouldn't be the first time,” Gerard admits like its not big deal before clarifying with a laugh “This is not our first date, this is the most awkward of awkward conversations ever.”

“Not the first time being fucked? Or being fucked by a girl? Cause there is a difference. And yes, this is awkward.”

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Frankie doesn't need to see his face to know he's grinning.

“I really really would.”

Gerard is silent for a moment before burying face in her neck to hide. “I'm not so straight myself.”

“Awesome. You're in for a real treat.”

“Oh I know I am. You gonna let me fuck you at some point or is that pushing it for now?”

“I... I never... Not with a guy , that is.”

Gerard presses a kiss where his face is still buried in her neck, whispering that it's ok. “It's not like we have to start there. I have lots of other ideas too.”

“Good. Penises scare me.”

“Well I'm not getting rid of it,” he laughs, pulling back a little. 

“Okay, but just so you know I only put out after the third date.” Frankie quickly covers, heat flooding her cheeks. It's strange to have Gerard so close and so... willing. She hates how stupid it makes her and how her heart is thumming a million miles an hour. 

“Noted. I'm not a total creep though, Frankie, you don't need to worry so much. I'm just here.”

“You are a total creep, don't try and deny it. And if you turn into a pressurey douchebag boyfriend I'm dumping your ass.”

Frankie feels him shrug at the creep comment, obviously agreeing. She isn't too surprised when he tells her that it goes both ways. 

“I promise not to turn into a pressurey douchebag boyfriend” 

Gerard yawns loudly, still trying to talk through it. “Good. Now I'm just going to warn you, I'm about to fall asleep. I don't snore though. Mikey said so.”

“That's okay, apparently I sleep fondle people,” Frankie replies, snuggling in closer. “Night, Gee.”

“Apparently so. Good night, Frankie. You'll still be here when I wake up right?”

“Only if you want me to be. I'll try keep my wandering hands in check.”

“I definitely want you to stay. And I'm not too troubled by your wandering hands,” Gerard replies, echoing another good night. 

Frankie quickly presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Dream up a good excuse to tell your brother.” It's strange how comfortable she is, how she just seems to _fit_ with him. She is rewarded with a happy hummed noise when she lets her hand snake up the back of Gerard's shirt. His skin is soft, not as soft as some girls she has been with, not that she can help comparing. It's not as weird as feeling the rasp of stubble against her, but rather weird that she can lay here... with him.

“I'll dream up ~something good I'm sure,” Gerard tells her slowly, shivering a little at her touch before his breathing slows noticeably and he is asleep. 

Frankie is absurdly warm and comfortable when she eventually stirs. It's nice to wake up to someone... especially with the smell of coffee flooding her senses. She can't help but make vague grumbles that sound sort of like “coffee” as arms snake around her. 

The warm person currently wrapped around her makes similar noises for a bit before burying their face against her. “Coffee is usually such an easy decision, but...”

“It is an easy decision, get yo ass up,” Frankie replies, shoving him a little before pausing. “Wait... Last night... Last night...”

“Mmmm but you're comfy... What about last night?” Gerard asks, not making a move to pull away.

“We kind of... But I can't really remember... I kissed you, twice. Sorry.”

Gerard's pale cheeks flood a little with colour before he quickly leans in, pressing two quick kisses to her morning chapped lips. “Now we're even.”

“Oh, so this is... We are... Oh for fucks sakes,” Frankie is done with the talking, more annoyed with herself than anyone else and grabs him by his shoulder, rolling them over until she is laying practically on him before kissing him until they are both breathless. 

“Yeah, this is. We are. If that's what you want...” Gerard replies after a few ragged breaths, running his hands up and down her sides.

“Want, very much so,” Frankie tells him, pulling back a little and sitting up on his lap and wow... yeah, that's his boner. It's pretty fucking strange and she can't help but grind down a little, watching as his eyes flutter shut for a second. 

Gerard draws in a deep breath, obviously struggling with the situation. “Yeah. Um... you okay?”

“More than, just weird you know? Weird but hot.”

“Weird but hot, I can live with that.”

“I'm impressed that you haven't made a grab for my tits so right now you're way up there in first date brownie points.”

“I think I might still be in shock that I'm lying here with you on top of me. That I can kiss you. That you even want to kiss me. It'll probably take me a while to get to your tits.”

Frankie giggles, pushing her hair off her face before leaning down once more. “I've wanted to kiss you since Mikey dragged you to my show. I was so nervous.” 

“Fuck you were so hot that night. Love watching you on stage.”

“What? Me flailing about on stage with my guitar? Apparently it looks like I'm having an epileptic fit. Hardly "hot"”

“Not at all, you're amazing. So much energy, putting everything into it. You love it so much and it shows. I had this image of you jumping off stage and hauling me up against a wall and I'm going to stop talking now-” Gerard hurriedly cuts himself off, darting his eyes away as if suddenly embarrassed. 

Frankie rolls off on to one side, propping herself up onto one elbow with a reassuring grin. “No, please continue. So you'd like me to jump off stage and press you against a wall and...”

Gerard bites his lower lip as his cheeks colour quickly. “Um... I'll go get that coffee...” he stutters, squirming to get up only to have Frankie pin him down. She needs to know, needs to know that this... whatever it is hasn't been and isn't one-sided. 

“No way, how long have you thought about this for?” she asks. “I was under the impression that I was the only one crushing hopelessly.”

“I've never seen anyone with as much pure life as you... It's beautiful...”

Frankie is momentarily blindsided by the honesty of his confession and quickly hides it. “Pffft, you're an artist and that wasn't really an answer.”

“I drew you,” Gerard blurts out.

“What? You _drew_ me?” Frankie is quick to jump out of bed with a grin and stumble over to his desk, searching valiantly though the various books and coffee mugs. 

“It's not on my desk.”

“Oh?” She quickly skips over to bedside draws and yanks open a draw.

“You wish,” Gerard tells her before getting up himself and goes to bookshelf, pulling down the first volume of The Invisibles, flipping through a few pieces of paper in the front cover and pulling one out.

“Yes, I do wish that was I in your bedside draw,” Frankie replies before snatching the drawing. “Fuck, that’s really good. Like, that's my nose! And eyebrows! Although the zombies laying at feet are a nice touch.” The drawing is pretty fucking badass and she is painful aware of the way Gerard isn't looking at her, his gaze directed at the carpeted floor instead. 

“You think? I just, you know, ~had to draw you after I saw that show. Couldn't get you out of my head.”

“This is the coolest fucking thing anyone has ever done for me. Are there more? Or just this one?”

Gerard makes a noncommittal noise and quickly takes it back, sliding it once more in to place. 

Frankie is swift to make a grabbing motion, begging him to show her. She watches as Gerard audible gulps before flipping through the pages again, shyly handing a little pile of pages over. 

“Okay you're right, I really am creepy,” he admits. “I'm sorry.”

Frankie shakes her head quickly before taking the pages over and sitting down cross-legged on the bed. She takes the time to carefully look them over. “These are incredible Gee, really. It's not that creepy, well, this one is a little, but hey, I look like an Xmen so I'm not really complaining. My only critique is that my boobs aren't that big and my waist ain't that small.” She eventually looks up and meets his eyes, thanking him once again and telling him earnestly that he is amazing. 

“Thanks. I... Thanks,”

“Come here?” 

Gerard bites his lip and shuffles over, not making eye contact until he is standing closer.

“I'm going to kiss you now, okay?”

He blinks up, kind of confused. “Okay,” he mumbles after a few beats, smiling a little.

Frankie places the drawings reverently down and stands, sliding a hand around his neck and tugging his head down and softy kissing him. “Thank you.”

Gerard kisses back a little, slightly frozen before he snaps out of it and slides arms around her, kissing again, soft and slow. She makes a happy noise and clings for a moment, letting herself enjoy the moment and the feeling of him against her. His kisses are strangely soft to begin with, cautious, before he matches her pace. 

“We should go get that coffee now before I go back on my three date rule...” Frankie eventually pants out, using every piece of strength to pull away from him. Gerard nods against her and eventually worms his way out of the bed, throwing some clothes on. She can't help but stare, her stomach still twisted and churning as if hungover as she surveys the way the light falls on his exposed back. She's seen guys before, obviously, but this is different, something new and almost dangerous. Her thoughts are cut short when Gerard twists around and offers her a bright smile before his hand to help her stand. 

They sleepily make their way to the kitchen, moving around each other and occasionally bumping in with quick apologies and stupid grins as they prepare coffee and bowls of stale cereal. “You know,” Frankie mentions around a mouthful as they lean against the kitchen bench. “I've never had anyone draw me before.”

Gerard snorts a little laugh and raises his cup once more. “Not that you knew of at least.”

“That is true. Not everyone can be as stealthy as you.”

“I appreciate that you said stealthy and not creepy there.”

Frankie grins, setting her now empty bowl down. “I'm angling for another kiss here, calling you out on being a creeper isn't exactly going to do me any favours. Besides, I was a total creep... am a total creep too.”

Gerard closes the distance between them easily and without hesitation kisses her cheek. “What, am I gonna find sketches of me in your room too?” he asks, his tone verging on sarcasm.

“No,” Frankie easily replies. “But um, songs with badly disguised metaphors about how much I want you? what? I'm a musician, it's what I do.” It's pretty funny to watch Gerard's eyes go wide and his hands clench around his near empty coffee mug. She hates herself a little for admitting it, for admitting the truth that has had her in a mess for weeks. Seriously, more than anything she wishes he was a she, then she would know where the fuck they stood and how to act and what is expected of her. Girl crushes and boners are hard enough to deal with as it was without adding in actual feelings for the wrong gender. She hasn't really pondered it in great detail and gets a little caught up when Gerard kisses her hard, tasting of sweet coffee. Her hands instantly cling to him and work their way up the back of his shirt, exploring the skin there as his hold her head steady. 

Gerard attempts to ask what the songs are but Frankie swiftly shakes her head, gripping at the bottom of his shirt and chanting “off, off, off.”

“Are you sure?” Gerard asks, hesitating for a second. “I don't wanna be a pressure-y asshole boyfriend.”

Frankie rolls her eyes before tugging off her own tank top. “You're not pressuring me, really, and yes, I'm sure.” As she finishes speaking she is almost too aware of the fact that she is standing in the tiny kitchen in just a bra and cotton boy shorts. She watches as Gerard sinks his small teeth quickly into his thin lower lip and nods, obviously keen. After a few decent breaths and feeling the warm flush as Gerard continues to look at her with amazement and awe she closes the distance between them once more, tilting her head up to seal their mouths together. 

“You're really pale.”

“I don't get out much,” Gerard easily replies, his hands tracing down the lines of ink on her chest and stomach, mapping it all out with his careful fingertips.

“Unless its to see me,” Frankie grins back and is rewarded by him humming a quick “exactly” before tripping over himself trying to take it back. She grins at him, wriggling a little in his insistent touch. “I've never been chased before, this is quite exciting! Hey! Stop! No! That tickles!”

Gerard smirks at her before kneeling down and pressing open-mouthed kisses to the swallows tattooed on her lower stomach and hip lines. She can't help but arch into his touch and heat of his mouth. After a few minutes she calls him out of being a tease and they make their way back to Gerard's darkened bedroom. 

“Oh...” Frankie pants as her back hits the mattress and Gerard continues to kiss and press small bites to her exposed skin. “That's...”

“Good?”

Throwing her arm over her face, Frankie makes a weird half groan-half moan until Gerard giggles and tentatively touches at waistband of her boxers, questioning. “You'd prefer something else?”

“Maybe...” she hesitantly replies. “What can I do for you?” The thought of having to actually touch him is fine... but _down there_... She swallows hard, reaching out almost shakily. Gerard seems to see her discomfort and shakes his head in response, swiftly telling her “Later” before allowing his fingertips to press just inches inside the fabric. It's tempting and far too much and as much as she wants to give in, Frankie finds herself swearing and yanking his hand up. 

“Fuck, I'm sorry!” Gerard quickly exclaims, fixing her with a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine, just, well, I need to shower. I'm all gross.”

“Frankie, wait. I'm sorry. I...” he shakes head, not knowing what else to say. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize, you had your hand in my pants, it's a good thing, really, just not right now. Can we just go back to making out?”

Gerard looks slightly confused before agreeing. “Um, okay? Are you sure you're alright?”

“I'm better than alright, Gee,” Frankie states before grabbing and kissing him hard. She's not porcelain, not glass and certainly not easily broken. Sure, she needs a shower, but really she doesn't know if she is quite ready for this... whatever this is. She knows he will probably expect or want something in return and she doesn't really know how to do it... that and she needs to stop gunning for his chest expecting to feel boobs. “I have to work tonight, graveyard shift, but we should go out on Tuesday,” she tells him when they eventually break apart, both of them panting and equally frustrated. 

“Okay, so you gonna tell me what's up? Or maybe later? Definite yes for Tuesday though.”

“Nothing's up! Why do you keep thinking that there is? I don't just fuck, but I'm not a complete idiot about these things.” 

Gerard pulls back, placing his hands up. “Okay, okay. I just wanna make sure. And if it was something I did I want to know so I don't do it again. I never thought you were an idiot. Can't say the same about myself though...”

“That's very sweet, but trust me, if there was a problem, you'd be the first to know. I don't hide stuff,” Frankie replies honestly, only just stopping herself from correcting with “Well, other than my soul consuming crush on you.” Gerard however still seems concerned and after a few more minutes of Frankie explaining that it's fine, the moment is kind of gone and she needs to get home and shower, he nods and kisses her cheek lightly. They dig around for clothes and eventually part ways with a promise to txt or call and that Tuesday is next they can see each other. 

Frankie tries not to focus on the kicked puppy look Gerard is sporting as she turns and leaves his apartment or the swell of dread and disappointment in her stomach. 

~

A few days later Frankie lays outside on the pavement, cigarette in hand, exhaling ghosts to the night sky. She wonders how the fuck she ended up in this situation. A boy. A fucking _boy_. What the hell. It makes less than no sense. She's always liked girls, even growing up. Boys just held no interest for her, and yeah, it was confusing as all hell for a few years, she eventually came to terms with the fact that she was actually gay. What was really surprising was how okay with it her mom was, despite the whole _religious, go to church every Sunday_ thing. Coming out to her grandparents was a different story, but they had come around after they realized that it changed nothing – she was still that girl who would sit with them and have a beer, crack jokes and jammed along on various drums, bass guitars and her Epiphone. Dad had even laughed when he saw the DYKE stickers she had placed on its white body. Now everything was fucked up and she couldn't get Gerard and his stupid face out of her head, not to mention, dreams. It seemed every time she closed her eyes, he'd appear, in his baggy hoodie and Iron Maiden tshirts, with stupid fucking ink stains on his fingertips. She hates how much she wants to kiss him, press herself flush against him and just _breath_. It hurts, it motherfucking _hurts_. Subconsciously tugging her baggy grey Bouncing Souls hoodie back down from where it had ridden up, she flicks the ash off beside her. The cold from the pavement is seeping in through the layers of clothes, swallowing her up and tugging her down, numbing everything except the beat of her heart and aching in her throat. She barely even registers when she stumbles back inside that her phone is in her hands with the _reply_ button hit to one of Gerard's text messages. 

She tries rather unsuccessfully to tell herself that it's just a crush, nothing more. That maybe her whole sexuality compass thing was just momentarily pointing the wrong way and soon it would right itself. But the stupid butterflies and the way she kept thinking about what it would be like to have a _life_ with Gerard begged to differ. She already knows how he likes his coffee – sweet with cream and preferably at all hours of the day, the way his hair sticks on the side of his face when he wakes up the morning, the organized mess of his apartment and that he keeps his nail polish in the fridge. It is as Frankie is stacking her own dishes into the cupboard that she thinks about things, the little things, like whether Gerard prefers to stack his dishes according to size and pattern or rather he is content with whatever. It is distracting in the worst possible way, invading her head as she tries to listen in class to droning lecturers and during band practice. It is even to the thought of him that she gets herself off at night, one hand stroking her inner thigh whilst the other sets a steady rhythm against her clit. _Just a crush_ , absolutely. 

Tuesday arrives almost too slowly but it finally dawns. Frankie is the one to grab Gerard's hand that night as they head into the cinemas and automatically goes to pay for the tickets. She tries unsuccessfully to get the chant of _boyfriend, boyfriend, I have a boyfriend_ out of her head, especially when Gerard pulls her back, getting his own wallet out and telling her that he will get it and the popcorn. Frankie has to literally bite her tongue from arguing back, after all, she is the one who is really working and not sponging off her parents... well, not as much as Gerard does. She doesn't want to be _that_ girl. Instead of yelling that she is a strong and independent woman who is capable of paying for herself she staunchly replies that next time it is her turn. 

Gerard seems satisfied with this answer and squeezes her hand slightly before breaking contact in order to grab the tickets and snacks. Frankie sighs, trying to push down the internal anger and looks around, eyeing up the movie posters as well as a strangely familiar looking girl who is headed her way.

“Frankie?” the girl asks before pulling her in for a hug. “I thought it was you! What have you been up to? How's your band going? I'm moving to LA in a few weeks, got accepted for an art scholarship. You here for the zombie movie too?” 

Frankie easily returns the hug, not noticing that Gerard's grin slips from his face as he turns around to find her and shuffles out of the way of the counter, not making a move to be closer and furrowing his brow as if trying to work out what to do. She's too focused on Penny and the way her dark hair sits messily upon her shoulders and loose jacket and replying that she is, seeing the zombie movie, that is. She finally adds a little late that she is here with Gerard, eventually turning to look for him, gesturing for him to come over. “Gee, this is Penny, she's moving to LA for some fancy pants art scholarship.”

“Uh... Hi,” Gerard replies awkwardly as Penny waves before quickly drawing Frankie in for another hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“We should hook up before I go. I've missed seeing you, call me okay?” Penny begs, a hopeful grin tugging at her full lips before she is half tugged away by her group of friends. “Nice to meet you dude!”

“Nice to meet you too...” Gerard softly echoes, watching as she leaves before whispering “Is it me or does she sorta looks like me?”

Frankie blushes, feeling caught out. “Um, yeah, sort of? Sorry about that. She's actually really rather straight.”

“... But she wants to hook up with you?” Gerard swiftly shakes his head before apologizing. “Sorry, I'm being a dick here. Just threw me for a second there... Did you say art scholarship? Wow, I _really_ need to do something original.”

“What can I say? I'm an awesome lay. And you are original, I like my nerds in the basement and not moving to LA.”

“Geek, not nerd,” Frankie is corrected. “I don't know shit about computers unless it's playing WoW. I did art school in New York anyway...” he trails off for a moment awkwardly before sucking in a breath as they make their way up the escalators. “Just so I know where we are... Are you considering hooking up with her before she leaves?”

“What? You serious? No! I only dated her because I couldn't have you,” Frankie thunders, a little pissed that he would even ask that. 

Gerard nod like an angry parent has just told him off before apologizing once more. “I'm sorry, I just... This is kinda too good to be true for me.”

“That's very sweet, but stop apologizing, especially when you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm not going to call her and I'm certainly not going to go behind your back.”

He seems satisfied with her answer and hands the tickets over so he can grab her hand again. Frankie wants to drop it. She's had her fair share of jealous ex's and partners with crippling low self esteem and right now it is the last thing she wants to deal with. She puts on a brave face however and allows herself to lean against him when they are finally seated, her hand teasingly located on his jean clad thigh. 

The darkness engulfs them and suddenly Frankie is so aware of his presence beside her as well as her own blood hammering through her veins. It's awesome and puts her on a high that lasts for the almost two hours that they are seated their. The sexual tension is like few she has experienced before and when the credits finally roll and the lights come on she feels so displaced she forgets where she is for the moment. Gerard takes her hand again as they exit and holds it back to his cluttered car. It's reassuring but not enough and she is dying to be closer to him. They end up randomly talking on the way back to Gerard's about their favourite scenes in the movie and what they would have liked to have seen more or less of. It's easy to get caught up in it and Gerard seems slightly shocked when he finally looks at the time. 

“Shit, it's really late, sorry, did you wanna crash here? Or I could drive you home?”

Frankie looks up from her position slouched on the couch, cradling a mug of coffee. “I'm comfy. If you don't mind?”

“Not at all, but you don't have to sleep on the couch,” Gerard expresses, shifting his weight somewhat nervously. He vaguely mentions that he is sort of tired and wants to lie down when Frankie asks and he helps her up from her current sprawl. It takes a minute or two to actually clear the various books, pens and stray plate from the bed before they both climb in, abandoning their near empty mugs to the bedside table and stealing small kisses and touches as they lay down. 

“Hi,” Frankie grins. “I missed you last night.”

“Yeah?” Gerard grins back. “I missed you too.”

Frankie hums, wriggling out of her ripped jeans and tugging her cardigan off. “I hope it wasn't too weird seeing Penny. She can be a bit touchy-feely I guess.”

Gerard shakes his head, mirroring her actions before quickly tugging the covers over them. “Nah, it's fine. I was a little scared of the wrath of the lesbians, but it didn't happen.”

“I'll be sure not to bring you to the bi-monthly meeting of butch punk girls in that case,” she replies with a roll of her eyes. 

“Oh my god, they'd kill me!”

Frankie lets a minute go past, hitching her leg over his hip in the effort to get comfortable. “There's no such meeting, I'm just messing with you. I only dated her and two others because I was avoiding my feelings for you. But I, uh, have to ask, because my self-esteem demands an answer but how many girls? Have you slept with, that is?”

Gerard eyes her curiously in the half dark, a little thrown by the question. “Ahh, less than you'd think probably. I had a girlfriend for a while. No one else that really counts...” He seems unsure about whether or not he should ask her the same thing. 

“Oh okay, sorry that was a bit out of the blue but well, I just hate the thought of being compared to all these other amazing girls. I've never done this with a guy so it's all kinda new, you know?”

He sighs, clearly relieved where the conversation ended up despite Frankie's fidgeting. “I'm not comparing you to anyone. You're amazing, Frankie.”

Frankie nods, not really believing it and buries self against him. “You're very good at cuddling.” She feels Gerard giggle against her before tugging her close and kissing the top of her head. “Fuck yeah I am.”

“And modest too.”

“Well, yeah. Do you want pajamas? I think there might even be a spare toothbrush under the sink, or you can use mine, it's the purple one. I mean, it's only proper I offer you pjs...”

She laughs, making some comment about them both having bad breath and that she is more than comfortable in her tank top and boy cut batman undies. Gerard seems a little distracted and peeks under the duvet in a vain attempt to see. 

“You're hardly going to see them like that,” Frankie tells him with a roll of her eyes before climbing more or less on top of him. She gets caught up in kissing him, making her head spin and the rest of the world seem totally unimportant. Before long their shirts are pushed up and hands pushing the boundaries. It is only when Gerard manoeuvres in the bed to take off his pajama pants he had snuck on before bed that Frankie freaks out. 

“Um... this is... we're going to...?”

“We don't have to do anything,” Gerard reassures her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. 

“But you want to and it shouldn't be a big deal.”  
Gerard moves his hips away slightly before trailing his fingers down her cheek. “Yeah, I do. But it is a big deal. And if you don't want to, or want to wait, then I can-” he pauses to giggle a little. “I'm not gonna die.”

Pulling a face, Frankie snuggles back in again. She hates that she wants to ask him to put back on his pajamas. It's stupid, they've made out before in just their underpants but this seems more serious, more certain and she really isn't sure that she is ready for, well, dick. “I'm sorry,” she ends up apologizing. “It's not like I haven't thought about this, or not wanted this... It's just weird and the more I think about it, the more it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Shhh it's fine. We'll get there, and I have plenty more ideas in the meantime,” he grins at her. 

“Oh yeah?” she baits him, only slightly surprised when he sticks his hand directly down into her pants. She's a little surprised and delighted that he appears to know what he is doing and a minute later, he slides down, kissing his way until he is seated between her thighs with his tongue teasing. Even in the half-light he looks amazing, his hair a mess and sticking slightly to her damp thighs, his eyes closed as he works her with a confident tongue and fingers until she is arching off the bed and swearing loudly. When she finally comes it knocks all the breath from her body and every part of her feels like it filled with fire. Gerard continues to work her through it until she practically drags him up to kiss him. He tastes sweet and perfect and it doesn't gross her out to know that is herself that she tastes on him. It's strange not reciprocating at the same time and her fingers are itchy to get him off too. The problem is how exactly. She's seen porn before, sure and it can't seem that difficult. She tries not to think about too much as she reaches out to stroke him through the cotton fabric. She tries to block out how strange it is to be touching a _guy_. Gerard looks at her a little questioningly, “are you sure?” practically on the tip of his tongue when she tugs his boxers down and wraps a hand around him. 

“You already made me come, least I can do is return the favour,” she murmurs against his lips.

“Only once so far...” Gerard begins to protest before moaning lowly. His encouraging sounds are exactly what she needs to hear because she feels pretty inept and way out of her depth. 

“Good?” she asks after a while. “I have no idea what I'm doing, sorry.”

He reaches for her face to kiss her quickly before replying “Fuck yes, just... You don't need to be so gentle... Oh...”

“Right, not so gentle,” Frankie echoes, twisting her hand a little on the upstroke. It feels pretty strange, how warm he is and how hard yet yielding his flesh is at the same time. His hands make their way back down and awkwardly feel around for a better angle until she repositions them so they can both get off, mirroring each others movements until they are both completely breathless and sweaty in the silence of the room. 

“Can you come a few times?” she finds herself asking, watching as he swallows dryly. 

“I need a little... Oh fuck, bounce back time between. More than you... What do you like?”

Frankie grins, grinding against him. “Hand and fast... Fuck... Artists and their hands... Will be the death of me...” 

Gerard complies and continues to kiss her, it's not enough, she needs more, to be closer and... “Wanna fuck?” she asks. 

He seems a little surprised and questions her. Any other time she would appreciate he concern and how sweet he is but right now she needs something other than just his fingers inside her. She's no stranger to actual penetration and with his brain currently shut off, it seems like a pretty good idea. Frankie is the one to make the move, breaking away from him and standing shakily to root through his bedside table in search of condoms and lube. She makes a frustrated noise as she pushes aside various comics, empty sweet packets until she is triumphant. It's easily enough to get back into bed and tear into the wrapper with her teeth, giggling as she tries to work out the right way to roll it until Gerard takes over. “It's so much easier on myself,” she mentions, watching in fascination. Gerard's eyes go a little bit huge at the comment, his breathing still choppy and out of time. 

Frankie is the one to climb on top, used to position from previous girlfriends and their strap ons. It isn't until she lines them up and sinks down a little onto him that she suddenly gets nervous. This is it, they're actually doing it and – Gerard kisses her, one hand gentle cupping her cheek and the other gripping her hip. She allows herself to get lost in the moment, in the feel of his body pressed against hers, his warmth, his taste. It's completely overwhelming and she can't help but whimper when she finally sinks fully down onto him, legs splayed either side of his narrow hips. 

It's a lot better than she ever imagined being and as they lay there, trying to calm their heart rates down after finally coming she can't help but ask if straight sex is always that good. 

Gerard laughs breathlessly, pulling the blankets back over them again. “I'd love to say yes but it's really not,” he replies, grinning dopily up at her. “We just work really fucking well together it seems.”

“Really fucking well, that was magic, that was fucking fireworks and... What?” Frankie shoves him a little before curling back in around him. “I'm a stupid romantic girl. Thank you for making it so wonderful.”

Gerard's blissful smile only gets wider. “I thought you might be, just wasn't sure. But thank _you_. For giving me this.”

“I wore batman undies for you. True love right there. Not sure if that counted as taking my virginity or not, but if it is, congratulations. Somewhere my mum is crying happily for no reason.”

They both end up laugh, trading small kisses and touches as they do so. “And don't lie, you've had those undies since before you met me,” Gerard mentions off handedly. 

“Nope, I had superwoman ones. Still have, somewhere.”

He gets some energy from somewhere, grabbing her and pinning her down, kissing her hard. “You are so fucking hot, you have no idea.”

Frankie desperately hopes that the dark hides her blush and roots around for her underwear and singlet, tugging them on quickly. “It's like... 2am, we should probably go to sleep.” She doesn't miss the way that he pouts before pulling his boxers back on and curling in close once more, his hand splayed on her lower back. 

“Good night, Frankie,” he whispers. 

“Night, Gee.”

She feels him ghost a kiss against her forehead, mouthing something there. She wants to think it is “I love you” but doesn't want to think of that being an actuality. Gerard falls asleep pretty quickly, leaving her wide-awake and alone with her own thoughts. 

~

Frankie spends the next two or more weeks in a weird mix of in bed with Gerard, on the couch watching movies with Gerard, watching Gerard draw, eating takeout with Gerard as well as the usual flurry of band practice, classes and work shifts that she is overly caffeinated in order to deal with. Being with him and being around him are surprisingly easy. More so than she ever imaged it could be. The only way she is able to explain it to people is that he is basically her best friend that she sometimes sleeps with. Mikey, predictably had been a little grossed out when she told him but had quickly shrugged it off, stating “about time, fuck.” 

She comes home from band practice one evening with a venti Starbucks and a muffin, handing it over to a scruffing looking Gerard who is sprawled on the couch in her apartment, aimlessly flitting between TV channels. He looks up at her slightly confused for a moment before taking them with a reverent “Thank you,” and “You're perfect, have I told you recently?”

Frankie hums a quickly, responding “Yeah, but I never get tired of hearing it. Um, happy one month.” She watches as Gerard's expression suddenly turns into something akin to being given a pony or a stack of first edition Batman comics. “Yeah, I know it's totally lame so I'm uh gonnatakeashower.” She quickly runs to the bathroom, all to aware how gross she is from practice and mortified at herself for remembering and bringing it up. 

“Oh no you don't!” Gerard calls after her, taking a quick sip before abandoning it to the coffee table and follows her. “Feels like I have known you forever,” he confesses, taking a seat on the toilet as Frankie strips off several layers of sweat soaked tshirts. “I mean, I'm still surprised that you want me so I guess happy one month to you too.”

“Of course I wanna be with you!” Frankie yells as she turns the water on. “And, well, same, it's like I've known you my whole life. It's crazy, especially considering it has only been a month but the past few weeks with you have been the best since... I don't know when.” Gerard seems to spring to his feet at that moment and kiss her thoroughly, hands roaming freely over her newly exposed skin.  
“I'm all gross from practice,” she explains when she finally pushes him away, removing the last of her clothing as she does so. “Stay?”

“Duh,” he replies before pulling off his own shirt. 

She can't help but giggle as he hops around, trying in vain to tug off his jeans. “What? You joining me?”

“You mind?”

“Hell no! But your coffee is gonna get cold though.”

Gerard shrugs, stepping in alongside her as she fiddles with the temperature. “I'd rather have you.”

“Suck up,” Frankie replies before kissing him regardless. “I'm playing a show this Saturday if you wanna come? Sorry it's late notice.”

He shakes his head, kissing her quickly and telling her that he will be there before ducking his head under the spray and grabbing the shampoo bottle. 

“Good, I like playing my heart out knowing that you're there, plus I'll totally blow you backstage after.” 

“Can't wait to see you play again. You give everything. So beautiful.”

Frankie rolls her eyes playfully. “You're such an artist. Speaking of, how's the comic going?”

Gerard pokes his tongue out in response stating that it's going but that’s all he can say about it for now though, that he will probably send it out to some of the bigger publishing houses for shits and giggles. They end up doing the usual dance of washing each other, getting a little turned on before Frankie does the usual stupid things and they end up arguing with Gerard trailing after her like a lost puppy. 

“So what are we doing tomorrow?” Gerard asks after a few minutes of redressing in silence. 

Frankie shrugs before pulling on a tank top and plain black panties. “Well, I don't have class and work is dicking me around so I'm all yours,” she replies with a small smile. “I think Mikey's probably eaten your muffin by now.”

“And finished my coffee. Dick.”

“You did leave it unattended though. Poor anniversary muffin, I lament your passing.”

Gerard guiltily mutters an apology. “Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow to make up for it?”

“No, it's not a big deal. It was totally lame anyway.”

He tugs her closer to him. “You rejecting me? I'm asking you out on a date here.”

“No,” Frankie replies. “I'm rejecting you asking me out on a date cause you feel you have to.”

It annoys her when Gerard flinches back, rubbing his bare arms. “No... I'm asking you out because I want to take you out for dinner.”

“I don't really do "out to dinner" Gee, but thanks,” she tells him before heading out into the lounge room, finally returning with his coffee and the uneaten muffin, sitting back down and handing them over. “You're in luck.”

“Thanks,” Gerard replies quietly, taking a tentative sip. “... You were all for out to dinner when I dressed in drag last week... Is that what it is? Cause I can do that again if that's a problem.”

“You think I only wanna go out to dinner with you when you're dressed as a girl? Gee, no... I... No... It's not that, I'm not ashamed of being with you, I just don't want you feeling like you have to. Besides, dinner is highly overrated, I'd rather get takeout and watch crappy b grade horror movies with you.” 

He looks up her a little shyly. “You would? Can we do that? And uh, I kinda liked dressing up for you... a lot.” 

“Fuck yeah. I'm a dyke. I'm more your boyfriend than your girlfriend. I don't do flowers or candlelit dinners, but chocolate and horror movies. I loved you dressing up, seriously, my girl boner was visible from Mars.” It's true, that date had been awesome and awkward in the best possible way, especially when one of her older friends had asked directly if he was trans or just playing dress up. It had ended up with them leaving the diner and Frankie never speaking to Tracey again after she had practically yelled “The Frankie I know would never have been interested in a guy! Or is this just a cheap back up?” Gerard had later tried to apologize for being a guy to which she had frowned and angry yelled at him not to be stupid before dragging him back to hers and blowing him. 

“That make me your girlfriend?” Gerard asks, snapping her back to the moment. 

“Nah, you're better than any girlfriend, you don't get a period,” Frankie replies with a laugh. “And you don't do the whole jealous girlfriend routine... Well, not that I've seen.”

“I don't want to be like that. I... I'm pretty sure I don't have to...? Right?”

“You mean do I give you a reason to be jealous? No, I wouldn't do that. Something about me being in love with you.” Once the words are out of her mouth she is instantly afraid and wants to take them back. They've only been together for a month, and sure, this is completely different to anyone she has ever dated and the fact that she is so gone for him – 

“No, I know you wouldn't. I mean... Like you'd tell me if things weren't working or something right? Cause yeah I'm totally in love with you and...” Gerard trails off, seeing her shocked expression. “I don't know what I'm talking about.”

“You said... You said that you're in love with me...”

He fixes her with a strange look, as if it has been blindingly obvious. “Well, yeah. You didn't know? Hang on... you said it too. Frankie, did you mean it?”

Frankie swallows hard, nods and has to leave the room. 

 

~

 

The realization that dating a guy, being in love with a guy, didn't change anything fundamentally about herself and what she stood for happened as she stood bearly-eyed with sleep, waiting for the coffee to brew. She blinks down at the two mismatched coffee mugs, unsure about what to do with this new information. 

“Mmm, making coffee? Totally my favourite person,” Gerard's voice echoes over her shoulder as his arms slip around her waist. She sucks in a quick breath, trying to find the words she desperately needs to say.

“You okay?” Gerard asks, circling around her to brush a stray piece of jet-black fringe from her face. Frankie nods slowly, turning around to face him before suddenly launching herself into his arms, covering his slightly rough face with quick kisses. He pulls back a second later, confusion tugging his unruly brows together. 

“I love you,” She tell him simply.

“Yeah...?”

“Yes, totally.” Frankie pulls back and trails her fingers over his jaw. “I'm queer.”

“Umm, yeah? I know that...”

Frankie sighs frustrated, hoping that he would've gotten it instead of having to spell it out in such tiny detail. “No, that's not it. I just, it shouldn't matter who I love, who I date, who I want to grow old with based on what is in their pants. It doesn't change _me_ or what I've always stood for. I always thought the world needed to put a label on it, and that being a queer meant that it wasn't right. But I am, queer, I mean, but I love _you_.” 

Gerard laughs. “Love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Biggest thanks to the mods for running this and also to Morganya for the incredible mix! Also huge thanks to all those who endured me whining about this - Halequinne, InnocentWolves, misslucythenerd and viviansface and anyone else who offered support :3
> 
> And always thank _you_ kind reader for taking the time to read this. It has been sitting rather neglected in my WIP folder for far too long and it is relieving to finally have it finished.  
>  xo
> 
> Tracklisting for [Mix](http://8tracks.com/morganya/here-as-i-am) "Here As I Am" by Morganya:  
> 1\. Plasmatics - Headbanger  
> 2\. L7 - Everglade  
> 3\. The Gits - Bob (Cousin O.)  
> 4\. Cake Like - Lovely Ladies  
> 5\. HorrorPops - Drama Queen  
> 6\. X - Motel Room In My Bed  
> 7\. Bikini Kill - Magnet  
> 8\. Lunachicks - Complication  
> 9\. Elle Bandita - Ubersex  
> 10\. Pixies - Gigantic  
> 11\. Patti Smith Group - Because The Night  
> 12\. Jesus & Mary Chain - Sometimes Always


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